Change
by Bookalohic
Summary: Zach Goode is a dark mysterious boy with a troubling secret. His entire life is already planned . But all things are changing because of a Cammie Morgan will she be able to change this closed off Goode
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is also a fictional story i am supposed to be writing for school. However Zach inspired this story. Some things are different but some are the same. All in Zach's pov. Updates will not come very often since I am still working on the plot but its coming together. **

"This world will never be what I expect it. And if I don't belong, who would've guessed it. " – Three Days Grace-"Never Too Late

When I was 6 years old I used to think my life was a book. Each new moment in my life was a new chapter, of my messed up life. Most people say you live I a fairy tale when you're a kid. You think as a child that everything is perfect. Nothing bad will happen. No one will die. They say you finally begin to mature when you get in high school. Personally, I think that is a load of bull. I learned a long time ago that the world isn't a perfect place. As a child I grew up feeling numb. No feelings at all. I learned that sadness was a waste of time. The only feeling that I was accustomed to was anger. I only knew to be mad. I was 8 years old when I first lost my temper. Let me tell you it wasn't a pretty sight. I got into a fight with my parents. I felt pissed off. I felt so angry my arms and legs were twitching with adrenaline. I wanted nothing more than to hit something. Blinded with rage, I ran up the stairs to my room. I trashed everything I owned. Books, papers, pencils, erasers, pillows, my chair and lamp were strewed all over the floor. I was so angry that I even punched the wall. I punched it so hard that my knuckles bled. Pain vibrated through my hand all that rage inside of me dissipated. That's when I first realized that I was turning into my 18-year-old drug addict of a brother. I cried that day because I was so upset I was turning into a monster my parents despised. That was the last time I cried. I swore to myself that that no matter what. I will not turn into an animal, driven by rage.

Since then I became the perfect son my parents always wanted. I hid all that rage deep inside me and plastered a smile on my face. I was the perfect student. You would think your parents would be happy with that. My parents weren't. I was 10 when my mother first lost her temper towards me. She just had a fight with my brother. I asked her if she was okay. She threw a book at me as her reply. It hit me square in the shoulder. The woman who gave birth to me swore at me. She called me worthless like my brother. She told me that she hated me. She told me to get out. So I did what I was told to do. I left. I was gone for 2 whole hours. For reasons I didn't know though. When I came back my mom was on the couch a blubbering mess. She was crying, she looked miserable and weak. I was thoroughly disgusted. She called me all those things and she was a blubbering mess. She apologized of course. Said she was sorry and it will never happen again. I forgave her. She is my mother after all.

Two weeks later it happened again. I was verbally abused practically every month. I put up with it though. Sometimes I even talked back. I was even used to it. Another thing I was used to was my parent fighting 24/7. My dad blamed me sometimes saying it was my job to defend him. By the time I was 13 I was thoroughly depressed and felt like crap. But the one thing that kept me going was the fact that, once I turned 18 and graduated high school I could leave. I could go to some far off University and start a new life. I was planning to run away again but this time I was coming back.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Sorry it took so long. I have the third chapter done. I will submit it later. And yes to guest reviewer Fluffly I love Three Days Grace. Its so great to meet someone who gets me. Thank you for those who reviewed. Again so sorry. HAPPY VALENTINES DAY! AND REVIEW!**

I hate high school. I find it pointless, stupid and overrated. I feel like banging my head against my desk. I feel like telling the teacher to shut up. No one needs to know about Shakespeare. Its not like we are going to need it in the real world. But of course no one told Ms. Jefferson that. So I am stuck here in AP English pretending to listen to Ms. Jefferson. When really I am listening to music, praying the bell will ring even though we have been in class for at least five minutes. Life really sucks. If I had it my way I would have dropped out of high school a long time ago. But no. Instead I have to be the perfect son. I have to listen to this boring lecture. I have to stick a fake smile on my face and pretend that I really love school. I cant tell the entire student body, teacher and principal screw you and leave. No, I have to stay in this horrible building, in this horrible neighborhood for one more school year. Then can I say see ya later and leave. Where to. I don't know. However, I do know I won't be coming back. No one in this damned neighborhood will ever see my face again. That's the only I am not busting the window open on my left side and jump out, no matter how tempting.

Currently, Ms. Jefferson is narrowing her beady back eyes. She closely resembles an old bat. She is scanning the entire room, waiting to pounce on her next victim. Which only means two things. Either someone disrupted the class or she's waiting for someone to answer a question. Probably, the latter. Ms. Jefferson's gray hair is tied up in a messy bun. She even has one of those librarian glasses. I don't want to sound mean, but Ms. Jefferson looks like one of those really clichéd old librarians you see on TV. Everything about Jackson High is clichéd. The teachers, the students, even the principal. Its not even funny how fat, old and bald our principal Steve looks like. Its just live the movies and books.

Ms. Jefferson's bat like eyes land on my green ones. I know without a doubt she is going to pick me. She knows that I don't pay attention in class. She also knows that I know everything. She wants to prove to me but mostly to herself that I don't know everything. She wants to prove me wrong. Just as Ms. Jefferson's opens her mouth to call my name. The door bursts open revealing a girl. My savior from the bat lady. She has curly brown- blondish hair tied in a ponytail. She didn't look familiar, which meant she was the new girl. Why anyone would come to this godforsaken place is beyond me. Canada is the place where you come to disappear or start a new again. It makes sense after all slaves did come to Canada in the past. Canada is a safe country. Nothing ever happens here, that's worth noting down. Now if I were talking about America, that's a whole different story. Compared to America we are nothing. Now a day the only thing people associate with Canada is Rob Ford and Justin Bieber. Talk about humiliation. No one gives a crap that Canada was one of the first countries to abolish slavery. The first country to approve gay marriages. The country that burned down the White House in the war of 1812 (Canada is boss like that.) No one cares about all these amazing heroic things that Canada's done. The world only cares bout our humiliations. So why would anyone come to such a humiliating country is a question I don't know the answer to.

During my monologue, the new girl introduces herself to the class. Of course I cant hear a sing le solitary word. Since I am listening to music. More specifically my all time favorite song Holiday by Green Day. It one of those stick it to the man kind of songs. The new girl finishes her short introduction and by Ms. Jefferson's request, sits beside me. I sit in the back of the class, mostly because I don't want to give her one of those half-nods acknowledging her. I am not one to talk to especially, girls. She gives me a warm half smile in return. Ms. Jefferson looks at me am=nd I know without a doubt she is gonna say my name.

Everyone turns around to face me cause they know I wasn't listening. I take off my head phones and turn off my iPod giving my most undivided attention to the class. "Pardon, Ms. Jefferson could you please repeat the question again." I say in my best polite voice yet. Turning into the perfect son, my mom raise me to be, even though I am not even close to being perfect. But before Ms. Jefferson can tell me the question, two boys burst through the door. There not new students, I've known them since the first grade. There also not in AP English, their too lazy to pay attention. That means only one thing there here for me.


	3. Chapter 3

What is the _true meaning of living? What does it mean to live it up? When i die i want people to know i once existed in this world. I want to leave this world with my mark. I want someone to know my story. Even if is only one person. I want people to know who i am. Even if i don't know who i am. I want to live until my last breath. I want to live defying everyone. THe critics, my parents, everybody even death. I want to live knowing i lived it the way i wanted to. Not because i am afraid of turning into a monster who shares the same blood as me. _

Ms. Jefferson turns around to face the two boys, Grant Newman and Jonas Anderson My two best friends and my only friends.

"What are you boys doing here?" Ms. Jefferson a bit frustrated.

Grant replied, "We need Zachykins."

I am so gonna kill that guy. I mentally, face palmed my self for Grant's stupidity. He just had to say my childhood nickname in front of everyone. Everyone was facing Grant and Jonas to see what were their excuses to why they disrupted Ms. Jefferson's class. You see Grant is the class clown; Jonas is the geek or dork, whatever, (he takes pride in being a geek, however, is thoroughly insulted by people calling him a dork. Apparently there are differences between a geek and dork) and I am the freak and loser. We made an odd bunch. The minute Grant said that words- Zachykins- everyone turned around to face me, snickering, except for the new girl. She looked thoroughly confused by Grant's entrance. I was extremely tempted to tell her that Grant and Jonas were mental hospital patients that escaped, disguising themselves as annoying and eccentric teenagers.

"Why do you need this student" Ms. Jefferson asked pissed off. She never did like Grant. In her books he was a no good hooligan. Grant returned the feelings of dislike.

"We need this student for an urgent meeting of the NSYRA." Grant replied with a smirk on his face. Ms. Jefferson looked thoroughly surprised, with a hint of respect. Whatever Grant said to her must have meant something to her. "Ok then, Mr. Newman and Mr. Anderson." Ms. Jefferson said in a defeated tone, "You can go now Mr. Goode." Students all around me were exchanging looks of curiosity and confusion amongst themselves. I didn't blame them I was just as confused. How the hell did Grant convince the strictness teacher in Jackson High to let me out of class? Just of stupid club that Grant probably made up. How could Grant, of all people, convince Ms. Jefferson? Were talking about the same Brad who introduced himself to me by asking me whether or not I was wearing superman undies. When we were six. How is that possible?

I reluctantly took my bag and swung it over my shoulder. I exited the class without a second glance. With Grant and Jonas in front of me. I should have been happy that I got out class, but when Grant has something to do with it, it never is good. We kept on walking until we reached the end of the first floor. The staircase hovered over us shielding the fact that we weren't in class but wandering the halls.

The halls were silent, not a single sound. There was no one there except for us. Not even the janitor. All one could see is the dim flickering lights overhead, casting faint shadows over the pale walls, and the mile long rows of blue rusted, dented lockers. Once the coast was evidently clear I turned to face the two idiots I call friends.

"What The hell is NSRA, or whatever" I asked, not bothering to hide the confusion in my voice.

"Patience young grasshopper, only time will tell." Jonas said with a fake bow. I glared at the shaggy red head moron who I call a friend. Jonas seemed to sober up once he caught sight of my kill look. I maybe a loser and freak but I was also the toughest guys here in Jackson High. I could beat up anyone even the captain of the football team (I actually did once).

"Ok. Ok dude I guess the time is now. But in my defense it was Grant's idea." Jonas says in surrender with his hands up feigning innocence. For some crazy reason Jonas reminds me of the Weasley's in Harry Potter. Maybe it was the red hair or maybe it was brown eyes or the freckles. I turn around to face the culprit Grant.

"Dude seriously what's so important that you had to disrupt my learning." I asked, in a much more calmer voice

"Zach we both know your lying you hate school. So, I being as awesome as I am came up with another New School Years Resolution." Grant replied with a grin on his face. His blue eyes twinkled with mischief. As if on cue both Jonas and I groaned. Every year since the 9th grade Grant comes up with ways to be popular. He calls it a New Year school resolution. It's sorta of like a New Year resolution except it's for every new school year. Another thing is whatever stupid idea Grant comes up with Jonas and I have to do it. So every year these ideas back fire and every year Grant says next year will be better. You would think he would have learned his lesson after all those death threats from Tina Walters. Her eyebrows still haven't gron back fully.

"What is it this time, Brad" Jonas asked not even trying to hide the sigh in his voice. Even if we wanted to say no, we couldn't. We signed a contract stating that we have to put up with this until the end of high school. In my defense Brad tricked me into thinking it was for a trip form.

"Ok, now I know you guys have had doubts in the past about my plans but this year things are going to change. This is our last and final year in high school. After this we may never see each other again. This year will be the last year that all three of us will be together. I don't know about you but I wanna live my last year in high school to the fullest. I wanna be remembered. Not for being the kid who hides behind books"- cue look to Jonas-"Not for being the genius who listen to ammo music."- Cue look to me-"I wanna be remembered as the guy who didn't watch life from the sidelines. I wanna be the guy who did something unforgettable. Don't you want to be able to tell your children, some day, that you did something memorable in your youth? Gentlemen, today is the day where we wont only be remembered for graduating this godforsaken place. It's time to live guys. Its time in the moment, because one day I want us to be remembered as the guys who lived as if today was their last day!" Grant said in such a firm, confident voice.

All joking aside Grant was so serious. In all my life I have never seen him like this. His stunning sky blue eyes narrowed, his jaw was set. Grant Newman looked so damned determined. Unconsciously I nodded my head up and down. My jaw was slack; my eyes were wide, almost falling out of my head. I probably looked like a fish out of water.

I'd never been so shocked in my life before. For the first time in my life I was inspired. I turned over to Jonas, he looked exactly as I looked, stunned. We exchanged looks we silently agreed with one another.

"Ok Grant, you got us. What is your oh so brilliant plan." I said speaking both Jonas's and my thoughts.

All the seriousness from Grant's face disappeared, replaced with a look of mischief. The same look he gets on hi face when he's up to no good. That's never a good sign.

"My plan is we have to be popular, " Grant said with a grin on his face. I groaned and buried my head in my hands not bothering to see Jonas's reaction. Like I said before Grant's answer is the same, to be popular. "Now before both of you assume the worst. I will like to tell you that I have a foolproof plan. However, it's not going to be all fun and games. First we need to tryout for some sport clubs. Second, we need to use our imagination to pull a series of pranks." Grant said in a rather persuasive tone. I finally lowered my hands to face Grant. He looked pleased with my reaction.

Jonas just nodded his head "What do we have to do?" Jonas said with so much surety in his voice. Since the first time I've met Jonas he sounded confident, so sure of himself. I wish I could be like that. Not second guessing myself. Not scared to live. I wish I could describe who I am to a random person. But I wouldn't no what to say.

"I will try out for the wrestling team, Jonas you will tryout for the soccer team. Zach, my friend you have to join the swim team." Grant replied with relief evident in his tone of voice. He obviously didn't think we would agree. But I have to say that Grant actually has a sensible plan. Even though I don't like it one bit.

Jonas didn't look like he was sharing my views. He was grinning ear to ear. I stared at Jonas; he was at least 6 foot tall. It was hard to tell, Jonas is tall and lanky. But not tall in a real intimidating way. Tall in a dorky kind of way. Jonas may look like your stereotypical dork. With his tall and lanky figure with red shaggy hair, glasses and freckles. But don't let that fool you. He was beast on the soccer field. I swear that kid is going to be the next Messi or Ronaldo. He was that good, even if never tried out for the team.

Grant was 6 foot tall with pure muscle. The one and only person who could win a fight with him was me (but only on my good days). Grant was made for the team, why he never joined before is a mystery. Both my friends were grinning like idiots ( cause they are). A deep frown was set on my face. I shook my head a little at the thought of joining the swim team. Out of habit my rotated my left shoulder in circles. Everything felt fine. The muscles and tendons worked in perfect harmony with the metal rod inserted in my back. I don't feel any pain anymore. But I can't swim. I won't put myself through that again. I haven't swum in three years. I can't go back to being a competitive swimmer. Where did it get? It got me in a dark place. I am not going there again.

"So are you guys in it or what?!" Grant asked. He sounded hype and enthusiastic. "Yes" Jonas says with an evident grin on his face. He is excited as Grant. They both face me waiting to hear my answer. I stare down at my shoe, not wanting to meet their eyes. "No" is all I say, my voice sounds small and weak in the empty hall. I don't look up. Eyes still staring at my shoes, not wanting to see my friends' falling expressions, I turn around and walk away. I cant join the swim team, I cant go through that misery again, even though I love to swim.

"At least think it over" Grant hollers from behind him. Ignoring him, I keep on walking. The bell rings signaling the end of class.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I won't be updating until the March break sorry. Just busy with school Review please!**

For the rest of the day I can hear Brad's inspiring speech ringing in my ears. For the first time in his life Grant Newman is right. We shouldn't be on the sidelines any more we should be making unforgettable memories. But, I am afraid, of what will happen. I am afraid that I will be the next family disappointment. I can't turn in to him, even though I am related to him. I promised myself when I enrolled in this high school that I wont make the same mistakes as my brother. I wont drop out of highschool in grade 12. I am not going to waste my life living with my parents. Not going to treat m parents like shit, punching holes in the wall and coming in and out of jail. I am not going to be the monster my brother turned into. I wont let my brother define who I am if it's the last thing I do.

School is over I cant help myself I am so relieved for the day to be over. I just want to go home and drown myself in a book or music, one of the two. I just want to forget Grant's words. But, unfortunately, for me I have an amazing memory. I walk home. I could have gotten a ride home from Brad but I have been avoiding him all day. On the Brightside, I always did like walking home. I just love the feeling of being all by myself in nature. The sound of the leaves rustling in the wind, the small tunes birds sings, it all music to my ears. It beats the loud chatter of students, and teachers. Out here, the sun shining I feel at peace. No annoying teachers asking me what are my plans for the future. No oblivious teens talking about all sorts of crap. Its just me, the wind blowing in my hair and the bird's singing their song. Its perfect.

Sadly, the walk from school to home isn't as long as I would wish it to be. I live in a small close-knit town house complex. It's the sort of of place where all the gossiping ladies have white hair and equally old dogs. Where all the men, who are (supposedly) decent, drink one bottle of beer. It's the kind of community where everyone gives a crap whether you where black or not. So in short, I hate living here. One of the many reasons why I cant wait to graduate is to get out of here. Can you really blame?

The small neighborhood is quiet. It almost reminds me of the movies, where the main character walks into a ghost town. Children and parent a like are probably already in their respectable homes, talking about stupid things like the weather. I keep walking passing a row of houses and the complex pool. My footsteps echo against the rocky sidewalk. The warm soft summer breeze wafts into my nose. The fresh air, sadly, is intoxicated by the smell smoke and Axe. The horrible stench that infiltrates my lungs puts me into a fit of coughs. I look up to see my least favorite person in the world, leaning against the railing of our town house. Coughs rack through my entire body. I hate being asthmatic. It sucks to have asthma. But he person above me, leaning against the railing doesn't seem at all concerned. Instead he raises an eyebrow cockily with a smirk on his face. After my fit of coughing I stare into the face similar to mine, not even trying to hide the hate radiating off of me.

"What do you want?" I ask, skipping the hello.

My brother, Danny, just laughs like he found something funny. Danny leans against the railing and takes a puff from his cigarette letting the smoke puff out through his pursed lips. His black hair seems greasier and longer the last time I saw him (4 months ago). He looks like he hasn't taken shower in ages. He has dark circles under his pale green eyes on his sickly white skin. Danny has the beginning of a beard on his chair. He closely resembles an illegal immigrant. I am almost tempted to call the Canadian Marshalls, so they can deport him. Unfortunately for me, he is a Canadian Citizen. He looks quite comically in his ripped jeans, Mickey Mouse shirt, and leather jacket complete with a blue jack sport backpack. My brother really knows how to outdo the whole immigrant on the run look.

"Why are you here?" I ask again less polite.

"I came to visit my favorite little brother. Is there anything wrong with that?" The 27 year old before me asked.

He sounded like a 4 year old. However, I doubt 4 year olds grow facial hair. "  
I doubt you came here to see me. Why are you really here, Danny?" I ask again, annoyance evident in my tone of voice.

My fists are clenched. I am tempted to hit him. It maybe wrong to want to break your own brother's nose. However, in my situation people will applaud me for hitting him. Danny is a pain in the ass.

"I just got out. I need a place to stay. Moms not home. There's no spare. Can you open the door, please Zach?" Danny pleads.

Personally I would prefer to leave him out here on the streets to rot. The last time I saw him, he was punching another hole in the wall. He was so hammered. He said so many things. That made my dad so pissed, he said Danny should leave. Four months later, he's back from jail. Like always he comes back. I would prefer to never see his face ever again but you can't turn your back on family no matter how much you hate them. You can't choose your family. Even if they're retarded, you have to live with the fact that there family. Whether you like it or not.

With a sigh I fish out the key from my jeans pocket. I walk up the three steps and insert the key in the blue door. We walk inside. I run my hand through my dark hair. I drop my bag near the closet door. The loud thud of my book reverberates through the empty house. The white pale walls glare at us with pictures of a happy family. Their looks of happiness seem alien to me. Even though it's my family staring at me. The only thing that doesn't seem alien to me is the baby (me) glaring at the person taking the picture. Probably thinking why do we have to do this crap? I am extremely tempted to take a red spray can and write all over the photos BULLSHIT. From the look on Danny's face, he couldn't agree any less. Those photos were taken during the good times. But like anything else in this world, all good things come to an end. My world fell apart when I was 6 years old. I learned a long time ago that fairy tales weren't true. There is no such thing as a happy ending, well at least in my life. Reality was a slap in the face. I grew up fast.

"It looks the same." Danny says with a hint of longing in his voice.

My fists clenched. My jaw tightened. Anger rolled off of me in waves. How dare he say that as if he really missed this place. It's his fault that my dad kicked him out. If Danny wanted to stay than he shouldn't be acting as if he's better than all of us.

"Yeah well nothing here changes. Drunken brother always comes back home from jail. Typical. If you wanted to see some change, you should have seen the party we threw once you left. We threw out all the banners and streamers. Sorry you missed out on all the fun." I say sarcasm dripping off of every word.

"Sorry Zach I didn't know it was your time of the month." Danny shot back with a glare.

Can't you feel the brotherly love? Ignoring Danny's comment, I walked over to the kitchen. Opening the fridge, I pull out a bottle of water. Danny leaves to go to his room. Typical. A sigh escapes my mouth. Tired, I lean against the cold metal fridge door. The cool metal presses against my back sending a shiver through my spine. My head drops making my chin land on my chest. My eyes close, automatically. I can feel the lack of sleep hit me like a tsunami. I want nothing more to fall asleep. Unfortunately for me Jackson high doesn't pay attention to the sign First day of school. So now I have a boatload of homework that will last me hours.

I stayed up all night yesterday due to my parents' weekly fights. My parents fight all the time about stupid stuff like soap. After their fights I am forced to do the clean up. I listen to their problems like a damn psychiatrist. They say kids don't want their parents getting a divorce. In my opinion a divorce is exactly what they need. Half the time when they fight I feel like telling them to shut up. The other half, I feel like running away. I actually did that once, I ran away when I was 10 years old. It was during one of their pointless fights. They didn't notice I was gone. I was gone for 5 hours. That's when I realized that y parents didn't give a crap about me. They say parents' care about their children. Not mine they care about my reputation. After my brother ruined their reputation I was their only hope of having a perfect son. I was the smartest student in all my classes from gr.2-gr.11. Now I am in the 12th grade. One more year to be perfect, then I can leave this hellhole. My parents always said they were still in this house because of me. When I am gone, they can do whatever they want. I will no longer be a burden to them.

The sound of the door opening broke me out of my reverie. Mom comes inside. She is a short plump woman with red hair, pale skin and vibrant green eyes like my own. When she sees me her face breaks into a smile .

"Hey sweetheart how was your first day of school?" she asks with a kind smile on her face.

"School was cool." I reply back with a fake smile on my face hoping, I dint look like I am about to puke.

"Are you sure sweetie?" you don't look well." Mom asks with concern evident on her fac. She steps toward me. Pressing her hand on my face checking for my temperature. She acts like a concerned mother, who cares about her child. In truth she doesn't care.

"Danny's home" I say regretting my words the minute their said. Mom's eyes widen in shock. The bag she was carrying when she walked in dropped to the floor with a sickening thump.

"Hey mom I am home" Danny says walking downstairs on cue.

He has a big smile on his face as if him coming home is the happiest thing in the world. Let me tell you it isn't, it is the exact opposite. Mom turns around, her back faced to me.

"How did you get in? " Mom yells. Her hands are balled into fists. I know without seeing her expression that she is angry.

Danny doesn't seem fazed at all by her yelling spree, he is used to it. "Zach let me in" Danny says with a calm face. At the sound of my name she turns around to face me. Her eyes are wide with fury. Her cheeks are red from shouting. She looks like a she demon. She starts shouting at me saying things that would make a grown man cower. She says, I am a no good son like my brother. She starts swearing calling me names that she always frowns upon. Most children who know my mother would be shocked by her use of profanities. I don't bat an eye. I am used to it. I am used to her shouting at me like I am Satan. I am used to the feeling of worthlessness that pangs through my heart.

My own mother stands before me waving her hands before me. She then slaps me on the cheek, hard. My hands flew instinctively to my cheek. It stung like a bee. It will probably turn red and bruise. My mother's eyes widen in shock. Her hands cover mouth. My brother stands there open mouthed. As children Danny always said I was mom's favorite. That probably happened because I wasn't the one swearing at her like she was useless. Guess he was wrong she hates me as much as she hates him.

Before she can say anything, I walk right past her, not wanting to face the people I call family. When I am about to reach the door, I stop. I turn around to face my brother and mother.

"I hate both of you. Maybe you're right, mom, maybe I will be a piece of garbage like my brother. But unlike my brother I would rather die out on the streets then face the people living in this house. You know I am sick and tired of all of this. Of you and dad fighting all the time. I am sick of the fact that my brother acts worse than an animal sometimes. I wish that I could be happy instead of miserable but that wont happen because of both of you. I hope you're happy that I hate myself as much as I hate you." I say, surprisingly calm even though my hands are shaking. I grab my backpack and leave.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: i am so sorry for not updating. You know i realized i have more than 1000 views. i was like holy shishkabob. Thanks for supporting me. **

The door slams behind me with a resounding thud; I can hear my mother shouting my name behind me. I ignore her, not wanting to hear all the cock and bull she has to say. I start to run, with no apparent destination in mind except to get out of here. I can't stay in that house for another second. If I did, I would have probably punched a hole in the all like my brother, Adrenaline pounds through my veins. All that buildup rage and anger went loose in that house. I probably sounded harsh but I meant every single word I said. They ruined my life. It got so bad in the third grade I almost committed suicide. I was being bullied and tormented at school. People told me to die. I wanted them to know that I felt that way every day, they didn't have to remind me 24/7. The thought of death became so reliving that I came up with a plan to end my life. I wrote a suicidal note with my farewell, just like the movies. I imagined my dead body day after day lying on that kitchen with blood gushing out of my chest in a never-ending river. Just the thought of my demise brought a smile on my face. I was ready to leave this world. I was ready to escape all the miseries in life. I snuck out of bed late at night with my suicidal note clutched tightly in my hand. I can still remember that feeling of holding the kitchen knife in my hand. The cool steel feeling of the blade brushing my hand and my pajama, it was so mesmerizing. I could see my reflection in the sliver blade. I saw a weak frightened little boy who was giving into society. I was going to end my life because of some uneducated morons. I was going to obey. I was promised myself I was going to be a rebellion. So maybe that's why I put thee knife back where I found it and left the kitchen. I kept the little note in my bedroom as a keepsake.

After 15 minutes of non-stop running, I stop panting like a dog. Never in my life have I run as fast as I did. My legs and feet ache. My throat feels drier than the Sahara Dessert. My heart pounds through my chest so hard, I am surprised it hasn't popped out yet. I look around from my hunched position and realize I am in the public park. I walk over to the plastic blue benches. I toss my backpack on one end of the bench. I lie down on the bench, using my backpack as a pillow. My heavy panting as reduced to light breathing. It isn't dark yet, the sun is still up. The sky swirls in lovely shades of light blue. The white clouds float through the sky like cotton candy.

I wish I was a cloud sometimes. Just floating above in the sky, without a care in the world. I don't have to worry about school, home and just life in general. For once in my life, if i was a cloud I could be an airhead (literally). I won't have to think. When I think, I think about all the miseries my life has to offer. When I think I am reminded of all the bad memories. Sometimes I wish I could be that little boy, who thought the reason it rained because the clouds were sad. Who had a mother who laughed at his silly antics goodheartedly. Unfortunately I grew up and that woman I called mother showed her true colors. It sucks to grow up.

The park is mildly empty except for a couple of old people and young children. Sitting on a bench beside me is a man, in his late thirties. He looks like the businessmen type, dressed in a black and white suit, neatly combed bond hair that looks slightly disheveled. To the blind eye he looks like any ordinary workaholic staring at his phone with a determined look. However, one should never judge a book by its cover. This man beside me has a story. Whether or not that's a sad one or happy one is beyond me. We all have demons, secrets, and stories. We all have a history. One should never judge a person so blindly without thinking that we all have demons and secrets that eat us up a little bit everyday. So when I look at this man I don't just think he is just a businessman. I think he has a story. People judge me every day thinking the worse. People think they know me just because they have gone to school has me for a long period of time. In truth, they don't know me. People are more than what the eye meets.

A sigh escapes my mouth. My mother thinks she knows me. My brother and father probably think the same thing. They don't know a damn thing. They maybe my family but they are just as oblivious as everyone else.

If mom heard Grant's proposal she would have said it was a bad idea and not to do it at all. Any prospect of me getting in trouble is something my mother would frown upon. She only values her reputation. Her children are her reputation. I am turning 18 on January 1st 2015. Its time I make my own decisions for a change. Maybe that's why I grabbed my phone from my jeans pocket. Maybe that's why I dialed Grant's phone number. Maybe that's why I said yes to his proposal.


End file.
